


A Rainbow Afternoon

by heylissaaaaa



Series: A Love Story (Bucky x Reader) [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Avengers, Established Relationship, F/M, Loving Marriage, Reader-Insert, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but nothing explicit or even graphic, everything is happy and nothing hurts, fluffy bucky, hints of sexy fun times, star’s multi fandom follower celebration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 09:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20945855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heylissaaaaa/pseuds/heylissaaaaa
Summary: On the morning of Tony's team barbecue, Bucky asks a favor you're not sure is a good idea.





	A Rainbow Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies! Here's my first finished foray into writing Marvel. This was written for star-spangled-man-with-a-plan's [challenge](https://star-spangled-man-with-a-plan.tumblr.com/post/187164316694/) over on tumblr. My prompt was “So I had this idea. Water balloons, but full of paint. What do you say?”, and as soon as I saw it I got this idea in my head. So here, take all the fluff.

You knew as soon as he walked into the bedroom, that he was up to something.

He’d already been gone when you woke up, not unusual for a Saturday morning. Where you refused to even be on the same floor as the gym during the weekends, he was adamant about sticking to a routine. He always left a silly love-note and a thermos of tea before he went, pressing kisses to your forehead that were only ever half-remembered.

By the time he returned, you were a little more with it, curled up in the reading chair he’d bought for your first anniversary. You were halfway through the thermos and your latest literary obsession.

You had left the door open, always did when you were in the room. It let people know you were still open to talking to them, but you preferred your own space to the common room. And, in an effort not to frighten you, he always knocked.

It wasn’t the three sharp raps that meant business, or the two soft apology taps after a fight. It wasn't the long-drawn-out pounding of “Sam and Steve are gangin’ up on me, doll, can you please come be my backup” that usually scared you anyway. When Bucky Barnes knocked on the door that morning, it was a little staccato rhythm he did that was most definitely combined with a grin and a glint in his baby blues.

The first thing he did was cross the room and press another kiss to the top of your head. Nothing out of the ordinary, though he seemed a little more good-humored than normal when he said, “Morning, sweetheart.”

You hummed and glanced up from your book. Sinfully small running shorts left bare beautiful thighs, and one of Steve’s compression shirts showed off Bucky's chest. His eyes darkened when he caught you staring, making you flush. “A_ very_ good morning. How was your workout?” you asked.

“Would have been better if you were there with me,” he said. You glared at him and snuggled further into the puffy armchair, reaching over to take a loud sip of your tea. It got a laugh out of him and he raised his hands. “I know, no gym on the weekends. It was good, though. Kicked Steve’s ass from one end of the room to the other.”

“I’ll bet he gave as good as he got,” you teased, coming to the good Captain’s rescue since he wasn’t there to do it himself.

Closing the book in your lap, you leaned up for another kiss that he met you halfway for. Bracing an arm on the back of the chair, he took your jaw in his free hand and licked at your bottom lip. You let him in on a sigh he answered with what was almost a growl. You were the one to break away first, breathing a little unsteady. He chased your lips but you put a hand on his chest to stop him.

“Hit the showers, hot shot. It’s a busy day today,” you said. Tony was throwing a barbecue later that afternoon, one of the rare days when there were no world-ending missions on the docket. It was just the team, relaxing and unwinding together. The only fights were over what you could and couldn’t put on a hot dog; the only physical exertion was a not-so-friendly cornhole tournament.

Stealing one more kiss, Bucky pushed off the chair. Grabbing a change of clothes, he disappeared into the bathroom and you heard the shower turn on. Untucking your legs, you stretched them out before repositioning yourself in the chair and went back to your book.

You barely noticed when the water shut off, didn’t look up as he came back out of the bathroom. He moved around the room, wringing the water out of his hair and hanging up the towel. There was an impact and a muffled oof as he flopped down onto the bed, probably face-first.

Then it was quiet.

Really quiet.

Definitely too quiet.

There was the other shoe, the culmination of his mischief knock. Logically, you knew it would have been best not to engage him. But after rereading the same page twice, you came to terms with the fact that his stubbornness was stronger than yours. Finally looking away from your book, you found him on his side in a pair of sweatpants with his hair still damp. He was doing his best Titanic pose, wiggling his eyebrows at you. He started talking as soon as the two of you locked eyes. “**So, I had this idea**-”

“No.”

Bucky rolled onto his back, spreading out like a starfish with his legs hanging over the side of the bed. “You don’t even know what I was gonna say!” he huffed; in that same tone a child gets when they’re trying to say _you never let me have any fun_.

You stuck your finger on the current page and closed the book. “Barnes, most of your ‘ideas’ end up with us being chased through the compound and threats of bodily harm.”

He lifted his head to glare at you. “It was the knocking, wasn’t it?”

You tapped out a rhythm identical to the one he’d used. “If you know, then why do you do it?” you asked, laughter in the lilt of your voice. Bucky stuck out his tongue and dropped his head.

A few minutes later, long enough for you to get back into the groove of your story, he sighed. Loudly. Obnoxiously. When you didn’t react beyond the turn of a page, he did it again. The third time, he lifted up his arms and let them flop back against the bed with his exhale. Finally, more out of curiosity than any real annoyance, you shut the book completely and set it on the windowsill. Crossing the room, you climbed onto his lap and straddled his thighs. He sat up and settled his hands on your waist. “Tell me about your idea, Bucky,” you said, running your fingers through his hair to pull apart the tangles.

He leaned into your touch when you scratched your nails over his scalp. Never one to be distracted from a mission though, he went on to explain, “So remember when we were watching that movie, with um- Christ what was her name?” You stopped your ministrations so he could focus, but he grunted and pushed into your hand until you started again. “We were just talking about her. She’s- she’s got the same name as Shakespeare’s wife?”

“Anne Hathaway, sure,” you said, nodding along. When he didn’t elaborate further, you had to nudge him a little. “Gonna need you to be more specific, she’s done a lot of movies. We’ve seen a couple.”

“The one where she’s a princess.”

You scraped your nails up from behind his ears to the top of his head and he shivered. “Getting closer.”

“And she has that cat with the mean name,” he urged, losing a little bit of patience.

“Fat Louie?”

Bucky looked scandalized that you would even dare say the name. “He can’t help it! He’s just a little kitty,” he insisted, pinching your waist. You flinched and swatted at his hand, huffing out a laugh.

“I know, Buck,” you said, trying not to smile. He looked contented with your soothing, staring off into space so long you were sure he forgot what you were talking about. “So, we were watching _Princess Diaries_…”

“Oh, yeah. Remember in the beginning, when she and her mom were throwing darts at those balloons to make that painting?” A more wary nod that Bucky chose to ignore. “Right. Now imagine:** water balloons, but full of paint.** What do you say?”

There were a few moments where all you could do was blink at him. “Buck, we watched that movie weeks ago,” you said. Coming back to find him elbows-deep in an experiment was a common occurrence; he got up to stuff when he was bored. What was strange was that he’d waited so long to act on this particular idea, or that he was asking for your help. It was almost like- Oh. “Tell me you’re not planning to test this on our unsuspecting friends at the barbecue.”

Bucky shrugged, the glint back in his eyes. “Tell _me _it wouldn’t feel real good to nail Wilson with a purple-paint-filled balloon.”

“You’re such a troublemaker, Barnes,” you muttered, no real heat behind your words. “Bet you already have everything for it, too, don’t you?”

“It’ll be good for us. Stress relief, you know? It’s better than cornhole, anyway.” When you didn’t answer, he began rubbing his hands over your sides. His voice softened, dropping a little deeper too. “Baby, I promise I’ll love you forever if you do this with me.”

You let out a snort and raised your left hand, wiggling the twin rings on your finger in his face. “You’re pretty much contractually obligated to love me forever.”

He beamed, grabbing your hand and placing a kiss above the rings. “You bet your cute little ass I am.” When you dropped your hand, he dropped the smile, becoming very serious. He tapped a finger on his chin. “I’ll... be your best friend?”

“Oh, I am _so_ telling Steve you said that.”

You were fast enough off the bed not to get caught, breaking his light hold on your hips. However, you’d barely brushed the doorframe when he grabbed you around the middle. He hauled you back in the room and crowded you into the wall, bracketing his hands on either side of your head.

“Don’t be a brat, doll,” he said, breath tickling your neck as he spoke and making you shudder. He kissed a line down to the spot where your neck met your shoulder. “Please help me ambush our friends?” Placing another open-mouthed kiss to your skin, you could feel his grin as you squirmed. “It’ll be fun.”

His metal hand made its way under your shirt, and the cold shock of it was enough to break the spell. Bringing your hands up to cup his face, you raised his head. “James Buchanan Barnes! Are you really trying to seduce me to get your way? Over paint balloons?”

“Is it working?” He turned to kiss your palm and the frown you were struggling to maintain collapsed. His grin widened and he kissed your other hand, bringing his own up to lace your fingers together and drag his lips over the inside of your wrist.

“It always works, baby,” you sighed. Head dropping back against the wall, you had enough presence of mind to put a hand up to his chest. “I have one condition, though.”

Bucky pulled away from you and dropped your hands, leaving them linked together so he could rub circles into your skin with his thumb. “Alright, let’s hear it.”

“Washable paint.” He started to protest but you repeated yourself more forcefully. “Since they won’t know it’s coming, they’re gonna wear clothes they actually like, Buck. You don’t have to tell them it’s washable until after if you want to see them freak out that bad.” He frowned but nodded, conceding that it was a good point. “You got yourself a partner-in-crime, darling.”

He made a fist with his free hand and pumped it into the air, grin wide and boyish. The accompanying kiss he went in for made your brain short-circuit with sparks that traveled all the way through your fingers and toes. You let go of his hands to run yours over his bare chest, stopping to feel the steady pace of his heart. Bucky wasted no time in picking up where the two of you had left off before his shower, nipping at your lips until you opened for him.

“Sugar, I don’t have it in me to keep it up with the teasing,” he groaned, tearing himself away from your lips to take in some much-needed air.

You mouthed at the underside of his jaw. “So don’t, baby. Let’s get to the lovin’,” you murmured into his neck. Putting your hands on his chest, you walked him back until his knees hit the bed and pushed. He stared up at you with an intensity that promised to wreck you and you shivered. You grabbed the hem of your shirt as if to pull it off, but stopped. “Oh wait, not before I tell Stevie-boy about the change in your relationship.”

This time you were too quick out the door, giggles echoing down the hall as he let out a string of curses and bolted after you.

*

Five hours, a covert trip to a craft store to switch out the paint, and three YouTube videos later, you and Bucky stood over two seventeen-gallon tubs overflowing with water balloons. He’d gone for the opaquest ones he could find, and they did a pretty good job of hiding the fact that they were filled with paint. By the time anyone else got close enough, they’d already know what was inside anyway.

“This is definitely enough for everyone,” you said, though you didn’t sound very certain. You threaded your fingers into the skirt of your sundress, a nervous habit.

“Doll, there are like three-hundred and fifty water balloons in there,” he said, winding an arm around your waist. He kissed the side of your head, lingering there so that his breath tickled the shell of your ear. “Besides, doesn’t matter if _they_ have enough. Just so long as_ I _have enough.” He studied the tubs again. “We should add a couple more.”

You laughed at that, pulling him away from the buckets and shutting the door to the storage closet you’d hidden them in. “Too late, Barnes. You’ll have to make do,” you said.

Most of the team was already outside, spread out across picnic tables or standing around the grill that Sam was manning. Speakers were set up to play in the background, the music chosen by whoever complained loud enough about the previous song. The cornhole boards were already out, Wanda teaching Vision how to play against Natasha and Tony. Clint and Laura watched their kids hop around in a bouncy castle; the former being persuaded to climb in as well.

Steve was the first to notice the two of you, coming over to hand each of you a beer. You accepted yours gratefully. “So, no hard feelings about your demotion, right Steve? I’m sure if you ask real nice, he’ll still be on your cornhole team.”

“Listen, trouble, don’t start,” Bucky said, poking his elbow into your ribs. “Or I’ll make sure to _forget_ to tell Sam you want cheese on your burger.”

“There’s no one else I’d rather give up the title to,” Steve said, cutting off your less-than-elegant squawk of indignation at your husband. He leaned in close, like he was going to tell you a secret. “Besides, he’s not that great at cornhole. Me and Sam are the real dream team.”

“Punk,” Bucky muttered.

“Jerk,” Steve countered. The two of them knocked the necks of their beers together and drank.

You pressed a kiss to Bucky’s cheek and promised to find him later, moving away to sidle up to Natasha. She wrapped her arm around your shoulder and you put one around her waist, watching Tony take his turn tossing the bean bags. “I thought you weren’t getting back until tomorrow,” you said.

Nat huffed out a breath and rolled her eyes. “Mission was a cakewalk. It was almost not even worth going.”

“Better a waste of time than a mission gone sideways,” you murmured, holding her a little closer. The two of you had been fast friends when you first joined the team, and were inseparable now. You were often paired up on missions together, but because of an injury, you’d been sidelined for a while. Watching her go off on her own, while you knew she could handle herself, had still worried you.

“I hear that,” she said. She nodded toward the game going on in front of them. “You wanna get in on this next round? Show ‘em how it’s done?”

You smiled and bumped your hip against hers. “Of course! Steve over there is already getting big in his britches. Left poor Buck in the dust, saying him and Sam are some kind of dream team.”

She leaned back in mock horror. “Now we have to play together! Your man’s honor is at stake,” she teased. You laughed and looked over to where your husband was standing with Sam and Steve, each holding a beer and listening to some story Sam was telling. Bucky caught your eye and winked, tipping the beer towards you, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

Later, after you had - true to your word - kicked everyone else’s butts at cornhole, Bucky pulled you down into his lap at one of the picnic tables. You were full of chicken and hamburgers, high on the adrenaline of chasing around Clint’s kids. Leaning your head back against his shoulder, you let out a breath and rested your hands overtop his around your waist. “How’re you doing, Buck?” you asked.

“Good,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. He held you a little tighter, turning his head to lean against the side of yours. “I like being like this, like watching you like this.”

“It is nice, reminds me why we do what we do.” Bucky pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder and the two of you fell quiet for a moment, content to watch the rest of the team run around with each other on the grass. You tilted your head back to catch his eyes. “Think it’s time?”

At his nod, you climbed out of his lap and wove your fingers through his, leading him away from the party. Someone, maybe Sam or Clint, wolf-whistled.

Stepping back inside, your vision crackled yellow-black as it adjusted to the low lights. “They think we came in here to get frisky,” you said, moving towards the closet. Using the key Bucky swiped off a maintenance cart, you opened the door and started to drag the first of the two tubs out. The balloons wobbled, but thankfully stayed inside and intact.

Bucky snagged you around the middle and pulled you back against his unyielding chest. “It’s not a bad idea,” he murmured, hot against your ear. "Have I told you how much I like this dress?"

You straightened up and admonished him, “Focus, Barnes.” You gave his arm a swat for good measure as he released you.

“Yes ma’am,” he said glumly, giving you a two-finger salute as he went in for the other bucket.

“I’m kind of excited to see how this turns out,” you said, staring down at the balloons. “I’ll take one, you take the other? We should spread them apart.”

Bucky nodded, and grabbed the plastic handles on one of the tubs. “Let’s get to work.”

Everyone was otherwise occupied when you and Bucky trudged out, dragging the tubs towards opposite ends of the party area. You locked eyes with Bruce, who was watching the newest game of cornhole. His gaze wandered down to the balloons before snapping back up to meet yours, and you brought a finger up to your lips.

You hadn’t garnered any more attention on your trek, and came to the spot you’d chosen pretty much unnoticed. A glance across the field showed Bucky was in the same situation. He was currently tossing a red balloon up in the air, catching it in his flesh hand. He smirked as you picked up your own balloon.

“I just want to say,” you called, loud enough to be heard over the music and the games. Slowly, the team paused whatever they were doing to look between you and Bucky. Most of them thought they had some idea what was going on, if their smiles were anything to go by. It made you want to laugh; they had no idea what was about to happen. “No one freak out; it’s washable.”

The confusion had barely given way to concern when Bucky let the first balloon fly, sailing through the air to nail Sam in the chest. Bright yellow paint exploded, covering the front of his shirt and some of Nat’s dress.

Yours hit Clint nearer to his shoulder, sending his children running away with giggle-shrieks. He wiped at the purple paint on his face, smearing lines across his forehead and cheek. When he looked back at you, the grin on his face sent your heart up to your throat. You had enough time to scoop up an armful of balloons for yourself before he was rampaging across the field towards the bucket.

The answer, in short, to what happens when you give water balloons filled with paint to some of the best sharpshooters and assassins and heroes in the world, is utter chaos. Pepper begged off participating pretty early on, but a well-placed balloon full of orange paint - which may or may not have been thrown by Happy, no one can prove anything - and she was hurling ammo with the best of them. Laura spent more time helping the kids than doing any actual throwing herself. Clint scooped a toddling Nathaniel into his arms and the rest of the team was gracious enough to stand still while Clint helped him toss. Bucky, who had seen _Lord of the Rings _a few days ago, had started a competition with Tony over who could hit more people, loudly calling out his ever-increasing number. To the surprise of pretty much everyone, Steve came out with the most hits. It would have been Clint, if he were kidless. You kind of suspected he’d done that on purpose.

The lawn was a slippery, rainbow mess by the time the last balloon broke against the back of Bucky’s thigh. Everyone’s clothes were ruined, temporarily, but at least there was laughter. Hard-breathing that came from something harmless, not a single worry for anything other than getting paint in the eye or accidentally hitting Lila and Cooper with a balloon meant for a supersoldier.

“There’s gonna be paint between the plates of my arm for a week,” Bucky griped, falling onto the bench next to you. There was a rag in his hand which he used to wipe at his face. When it was clean, he took your chin in his free hand and started passing the rag over your cheeks.

You spared a glance down towards the multicolor mess of his arm, wet blue sliding down semi-dry orange. “Yeah, I was thinking about that earlier,” you said.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, letting the rag slap lightly against the side of your head. You wrinkled your nose and laughed.

“If I had, you’d have called me a party-pooper and ignored me!” You raised an eyebrow when he went to protest, and he had the good sense to close his mouth again. Taking the rag from him, you set it down on the picnic table and cupped his face with your hands. “Besides, think of all the showers we can take together under the pretense of cleaning your arm.”

Bucky covered your hands with his and pulled them down into his lap. When he leaned forward to press his lips against yours, you were left breathless by the emotion he poured into the kiss, twisting the wedding band around your finger idly.

“I love you, Mrs. Barnes,” he breathed.

“I love you too, Mr. Barnes.”


End file.
